


Alive

by LadyBraken



Series: Terrorfest- Halloween 2019 [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Horror, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, recovering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 04:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21093242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBraken/pseuds/LadyBraken
Summary: When Francis opened his eyes, it was to the creak of wood. He was in an unknown place, and yet, he was home.He was on a ship. Light wood. Wool under his finger, one-sized bed around him. Grease, sap, wood, sweat. Salt. The sea.Home.





	Alive

When Francis opened his eyes, it was to the creak of wood. He was in an unknown place, and yet, he was  _ home _ . 

He was on a ship. Light wood. Wool under his finger, one-sized bed around him. Grease, sap, wood, sweat. Salt. The sea. 

Home. 

Home. 

His ears rang, and soon, he fell back into darkness. 

James. Francis knew his old friend was there long before he managed to open his eyes. The weight of the hand, the smell of the skin, the sound of the breath. He knew them by heart - he knew them in his heart. His old friend had come for him. He would have cried if he could. 

Francis opened his eyes. 

James Clark Ross had come for him. 

The man was sitting on a chair just next to Francis’s bed. His hair had a few new streaks of white, and his face was a little bit gaunt and eaten by a thick beard, but there was no doubt in Francis’s mind that he was the most wonderful sight his eyes he had ever the privilege to lay on. 

James must have felt him shift, because his eyes snapped towards Francis. A small smile of relief stretched his lips and his hand immediately went to Francis’s.

“Francis? Do you hear me?”

“‘M not old enough to be deaf.” He mumbled with a wince. 

James chuckled and leaned closer to his friend. “You gave me quite the fright, old man.”

Francis frowned. He felt like the polar wind had found its way inside his head. He couldn’t focus on one thought, he couldn’t focus on anything. His own breath seemed to shake his entire body, and his limbs felt heavy and dead. He moved his lips without managing a sound until he managed a “Wha-?” that sounded far more pitiful than he wished to. 

“Lady Jane raised havoc in all London to send people looking for you- well, for Franklin. It took time, but she managed it, obviously. Quite the temper, that one.” he snorted, “she held her ground in front of all the admiralty all by herself. So we went, and thanks to the 

Netsilik, we managed to find you.”

Hope was a tight fist clenching Francis’s heart. “The men?”

Something passed on James’s face. “You should rest.” he said, “We will talk about that later. I will call for the doctor to check on you.”

James rose and did just that. He stayed next to Francis while the doctor examined him, his eyes worrily passing from the man to his friend, as if the poor officer could in a few days cure years of poisoning and weeks of starvation. It was slightly humiliating, to be so debilitated by weakness in front of his oldest friend, yet it made something warm grow inside Francis’s heart. By the time The doctor was done, Francis had fallen asleep. 

\---

“You’re awake, Sir!”

Jopson was smiling at him. He looked much better than the last time Francis had seen him. He closed the book in his hands, and turned towards his captain. 

Never had Francis felt so much relief. 

“You- You’re alright?” he asked with some difficulties. 

Jopson put his hand on Francis’ shoulder - weightless, featherlight touch to push him back in the bed. “I am alright, Captain, we all are. Most of the men are resting now - you slept for quite some time.”

Francis grunted “I’m sure I’m not the only one sleeping - Blanky, old thing that he is, must still be snoring on some bed.”

“Actually, he was the first one up and about.” said Jopson with the straight face he made only when he had to stop himself from laughing. There was a red spot near his mouth, but when Thomas turned, it wasn’t there anymore. A trick of the light. 

“Hush, you impertinent boy.” 

“Yes Sir.”

\---

_ Francis you have to listen to me- _

Drop, scratch, wheeze. 

_ _ _ I know, I know- _

Fear, fear,  _ fear, no no no no no- _

_ _ _ I’m so sorry, so so, sorry but- _

\---

Francis’s recovery was a long one - but the way back would be even longer. Yet, he did not fall into a black mood as he would have been prone to be a few years earlier. He cried when he saw James bloody Fitzjames limping towards him, upwards and somewhat healthy. He took his second in his arms, finding solace on how alive he felt now that James was at his side. Relieved that nothing bad had come to pass - _ I’m not Christ _ -, that this bright young man would have a future.

He laughed until his throat was sore when Blanky jumped into the makeshift bed, and his wooden leg caught against the mattress. 

\---

_ It was selfish how much he loved some of them. It was dangerous, how much his heart belonged to them- _

_ Yet, yet! _

\---

Goodsir’s visit was quieter.

The doctor looked - he looked like what he had looked like the last time Francis had seen him. Haggard. His smiles like bitter tears. He stayed silent, for a long time, observing Francis. A ray of light was falling on his curled locks - they were longer than ever, falling around his head. He looked old - he had looked old during the walk. After Morfin’s death- tired, always, full of lassitude. Unable to take more blows - and yet the blows kept coming. The naïve innocent stripped to leave a man bare, skinned, all raw muscles and wheezing breaths. 

“Are you alright?” asked Goodsir, and for the first time, Francis didn’t quite know what to answer. 

After a while, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, Goodsir was gone. 

Francis felt guilty et the pang of relief that spread through his chest. 

But the feeling passed quickly. 

When James - Ross, but he would always be James to Francis- came back to him, it was with a slight frown on his face. 

Francis’s smile dropped. “What is it?” he asked.

Ross looked at him a long, long time, then shook his head. “Nothing.” he said with a faint smile. Almost on its own, his hand went to find Francis’s and squeezed his palm slightly. 

“Francis-”

Francis waited while James took a deep, shaky breath. “You do know that I have the deepest affection for you.”

Francis smiled tightly. Deepest affection. Not love, never love, but close.

_ There’s nothing worse than close _ . 

“I know, James. I know.”

There was something so upset in James’s eyes that Francis clasped his hand tighter. A lump in his throat stopped any word from coming out of his mouth - to tell the truth, he didn't know what to do. Why would James be upset? Francis hadn’t done or said anything to hurt him. Hell - Francis was the one who was hurt. The one that had passed months starving in the middle of a frozen nowhere - and if the thought was uncharitable, it didn’t stop Francis from being annoyed. 

If something had happened, he was kept in the dark. 

But he was there, and James was there. Then what-

“James, did something happen to the boys?”

James raised his eyes to look at him.

_ “No. Of course not. All will be well, I promise.” _

\---

Francis talked about James’s strange behaviour to Blanky. The man had eyes everywhere- always had. If something was afoot he would be the one knowing it. Jopson too, but Francis couldn’t stoop so low as to discuss  _ that _ with the lad.

“He came from England - despite his promise to his girl- and traveled for years to find  _ you _ . I have in mind that the man had quite the scare.” he said, putting his hand on Francis’s shoulder. “He thought you were dead, Francis. He thought you were dead. You wouldn’t be much better in his place.”

Yes, of course. Francis suddered to imagine his reaction if anything happened to James- to any of these people that were not quite family, and yet much more precious for that same reason. 

“See?” laughed Blanky, “It’ll get better, don’t you worry your little head, Captain. It’ll all be fine. Just like before, in no time, you and him running around causing havoc. I’d run with you, but I’m afraid my new leg is still making me a bit slow.”

The corner of Blanky’s eyes crinkled, a twinkle in his eyes, and the familiar ache of tenderness was ablazed in Francis’s heart. 

He laughed. 

\---

_ Finally up, old man? _

“Well, I couldn’t quite stay in bed for the rest of the journey. I have to make myself useful somehow.” Francis answered with a smile.

_ Goodsir won’t like that. _

“Well, I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

\---

“Francis, who were you talking to earlier?”

“Oh, Fitzjames came to bother me. I’m surprised you managed to get the lad away from my sickbed, you know. He can be quite stubborn.”

James smiled tightly. “I’m sure he can. He took… care of you in the Arctic?”

“Not  _ like that _ . But yes, he did. And I took care of him. When-”

James sat next to Francis, shoulder to shoulder, his hand innocently next to the Captain’s. Not touching, but there. “When we left the ships - the scurvy was already on us. He was one of the first to show the signs - even if he didn’t tell anyone. It… it went  _ bad _ , James. When I saw him fall - the idiot insisted on pulling until his body gave up under him- I thought I had lost him. It was a terrible thing- to see that.”

“It must have been.” whispered James.

“Fitzjames wasn’t the only one, but… he was my second. My friend. Always as full of energy as he was full of himself. Until he wasn’t. And the lead - we lost so many men to the lead. Food was poisoned, you know? A man - Mor- Norcin? I can’t remember his name, for God’s sake! The first one the fall, during the walk. One of the marines had to put him down - he was going mad with pain and - and  _ something else-” _

_ _ Francis took a deep, shaky breath. He felt James curl his arms around him, hold him tightly against his side. 

“He went mad, James. And I think - it’s a sin, I know- but I think it was mercy, in the end, to shoot him. That’s what he wanted. But- I can’t remember his name - it’s like he had been- like erased…”

“It’s over, now.” said James. 

Francis didn’t quite have it in him to say the words back. He hoped. 

_ He hoped. _

\---

Francis was never more at home than on a ship. The salt in the wind, the foam in the air. Sophia had been right - of course she had been. He wasn’t a man of the land. He wasn’t a man of stable ground. He needed the swaying wood under his feet, he needed his men around him, and he needed hope. 

Like air, just like air. 

Francis took a deep breath. What good air that was.

\---

“Francis…”

Again. Again that tone, that look in James’s eyes. They were beautiful, those eyes, but never, never when they looked at Francis like that. That look, that  _ fucking look _ made Francis want to hide in a box until everything was over. The frowned between the eyes, the shadow under them. The corner of the mouth downturned by sorrow. 

Why wasn’t James happy? Hadn’t he found Francis? Did he wishes he had been dead - did he wish he had found nothing?

“Francis…”

_ Are you alright? Goodsir _ always asked

_ Yes. _

_ _ “Francis, you’re not fine. You need to listen to me-”

They were on the deck. The wind blew strong - as they approached the coasts of England. Only a few days left.

The men were looking at them.

Anger was bitter on Francis’s tongue. 

“Why are you doing this James? Will my court martial not be enough humiliation that you have to provoke such a scene now?”

James shook his head, his hair flowing on the sides of his face. Not golden anymore - sliver. Whitened by the sea. By the sorrow. By the fear. 

In two long strides, James was in front of him, gripping his forearms tightly - so tightly he would leave bruises-

_ Bruises that unlike us will not fade- _

_ _ James hands were as frantic as the man himself, going from gripping his arms to his neck, to his cheek, to his arms again, as if not knowing what to do, not knowing what to touch. 

James had always known. He had always known Francis.

He didn’t. Not anymore. 

The loss was like a drop in a dark well.

He remembered. He knew. The small drop of silence that had eaten the words, the precious, horrible words. He knew and yet-  _ no, no,no,no,no _ \- it couldn’t be true-

What? there was nothing to look for, no hole in his memory, no hole in his heart-

_ “The men?” _

_ _ _ “There’s… there’s only you. I’m sorry Francis. You should rest, now. We will talk about that later _ .”

No. He had invented this. It couldn’t be-

James clutched his arms. He looked at him, pleading, and the tears in his eyes made Francis want to lash out. “Francis this has to stop. They’re dead, please, you  _ saw _ it happen. They’re gone and they are not coming back and I’m so, so sorry that it happened but no one can make that go away now-”

“No, please, no-” Francis screamed - but it came out as a whisper. James pulled him into a crushing, desperate embrace, muffling his next words into his shoulder. It should have been comforting, it should have helped. But Francis suddenly found himself choking, drowning in the big mass of flesh around him. Buried alive. 

“I’m so tired, James.”

_ Please, tell me it’s a lie.  _

_ Lies _ . 

_ He woke up alone, alone and the wood creaked and the room swallowed him - Jopson should be here, Jopson should be near him and smile and - You’re awake, Sir! _

“I’m so sorry Francis. Please, I need you to come back. My lo- my friend, Francis, please. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry…” James said in a rush, trying so, so hard to steady his voice that Francis could _ feel _ his throat tense. 

_ Lies. _

_ _ “They are gone, Francis, dead and gone, and I know we should have come sooner, and I will forever hate myself for that - but it won’t change the fact that they are gone-”

_ _ “Lies!”

He felt James startle out of their embrace. A flash of hot, burning rage cut through Francis’s chest. 

“You’re lying! It’s -It’s alive.” he sobbed- and god when had he started crying?-, pointing at his chest with his finger, “In here. Their pain, their ghosts. It’s still alive. They are. They’re still alive, in me! THEY ARE ALIVE!”

He had- “I have hope to keep my men alive-”

Like air.  _ Like air. _

“I must keep hope alive, so that we all go on. So we survive- I have to-”  _ It’s my duty _ \- “my duty to keep them alive.” Not to- “Not to give up! They are fine - we will all be fine-”

_ It’s ok, Francis _ .  _ Fitzjames’s hand on his arm. I have faith in you. _

“It’s-”

_ It’s alive. _

_ _ He heard a click. Screams of unknown voices. Metal at the ready. 

_ _ _ Hope. _

_ _ _ (Morfin. That was the name.) _

_ _ _ It’s alive. _

  
_ _ Ho-


End file.
